


In Silence

by ChucklesCPfic



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Kissing, M/M, Unrequited Love, silent communication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2016-03-09
Packaged: 2018-05-24 15:46:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6158611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChucklesCPfic/pseuds/ChucklesCPfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chakotay and Tom settle their differences. Each part told from a different person's perspective. (Written March 2016)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Janeway

Title: In Silence  
Author: Chuckles  
Pairing: C/P

 

Captain Kathryn Janeway sat alone at a table in Sandrine's and watched the people around her. 

It'd been a stressful day. The ship had been under attack for several hours before Voyager finally got the upper hand and the fast-flying pirate ships had been chased off, hopefully for good. 

Tension amongst the crew had been high, especially on the bridge, and Janeway sighed as she recalled the heated words exchanged, yet again, between her First Officer and Chief Pilot. It seemed, lately, that every shift ended the exact same way.

Taking a sip of her wine, she turned her gaze on one half of the argumentative duo, currently leaning against the bar. Tom Paris. Tall, blond-haired, with striking blue eyes, and currently dressed in faded blue jeans and a crumpled navy T-shirt; he looked as though he'd just thrown on the first things he'd found in his closet. Not like Tom at all, she thought. He usually put so much care into his appearance.

She turned her attention, momentarily, to the group of people Tom was standing with. B'Elanna Torres, Chief Engineer and Tom's last girlfriend, was currently laughing over something with Harry Kim, the pilot's best friend. Jenny Delaney and her sister, Megan, stood next to Harry, Jenny's hand occasionally straying to rest on Harry's arm. A new relationship in the making? she wondered.

She looked again at Tom, noting that he was barely reacting to the conversation going on next to him. In fact, he'd turned slightly and was now resting both elbows on the bar, his face turned away from his friends, giving her a chance to view his profile. 

He was a good looking man, she thought. Shame he was so much younger than she was....

Janeway chuckled to herself and picked up her drink again. It didn't hurt to look, and Tom was definitely good to look at, even if her heart _was_ actually elsewhere....

She glanced towards the door as it opened, and blushed lightly as the object of her affections strode in and made himself comfortable next to a trio of men at the end of the bar. Her First Officer was a very handsome man, she considered. Very handsome.

Hoping to catch his eye, she twisted in her seat until she fully faced him, bringing the wine to her lips as she let her gaze roam, unnoticed, over him. Dressed in black jeans and tight black T-shirt, he looked exceptionally good tonight.

As she watched him get served, she considered all the times she'd flirted with him over the years, smiling to herself at how charming he'd always been in return. He'd never once hinted at taking things further, though, and she just knew it was a sign of how much he loved her – how much he respected her position as Captain that he would put aside his own desires in consideration of her position and the welfare of the ship. He, also, had never shown any interest in, or approached, any other woman, staying celibate just for her. Such a wonderful man. But they were going to be away from the Alpha Quadrant for many more years yet, so perhaps....

Perhaps it wouldn't be such a bad thing to have some intimate company along the way. Maybe it was finally time to take the flirting to a different level, a more obvious level. Perhaps she should allow him a glimpse at just how deep her feelings for him actually ran.

Grinning to herself, she took another sip of wine as she watched him take a drink of the whisky he'd just been served. He put his glass on the counter then and scanned the people clustered around the bar, his gaze quickly becoming fixed on just one person. She followed his intense dark eyes and found they were locked on the equally intense eyes of her pilot. 

Oh, no. 

Surely they weren't going to continue their spat here, in such a public place....

Putting her glass down, she worriedly scrutinised their body language. Tom had straightened up somewhat, but he looked tense. She could see how one hand now gripped the edge of the bar, his knuckles white, his other hand hanging clenched in a fist at his side. Tom's gaze never wavered, his glittering blue eyes seeming to offer a challenge as he stared at his adversary at the end of the bar. But, despite his attempts to appear strong and in control, she could see, by the way he convulsively swallowed every now and again, that he was nervous.

Chakotay, on the other hand, didn't appear nervous at all. Still staring at Paris, he was now leaning almost nonchalantly against the counter, his face a picture of steely concentration. She could tell he was deep in thought - appraising his prey, it seemed to her. He picked up his drink again, still watching the pilot over the rim of the glass as he took a leisurely sip from it. Then, a decision apparently made, he pushed away from the bar. 

Holding her breath, her gaze flitted between the two men as Chakotay rounded the other customers and strolled up to Tom. Placing his whisky close to the pale hand that gripped the counter, he came to a stop directly in front of the other man, their eyes still locked as they faced each other.

Her hand poised over her comm badge, Janeway shifted to the edge of her seat, hoping against hope that she wouldn't have to call in Tuvok and his security team.

Time seemed to stand still as she watched her two officers. Neither spoke - at least, not verbally. Their eyes seemed to be conversing, though, each set trained on the other as they sized each other up. There was an intensity between them that she'd never seen before – ice blue peering into a hot, dark abyss – the air around them almost crackling with anticipation. 

And then, the ice began to melt.

Letting go of the counter, Tom blinked and then slowly lifted his hand, hesitantly placing it, long fingers splayed, on Chakotay's chest. The corners of the older man's mouth twitched and his eyes softened as he stepped closer to Tom, leaving Janeway in no doubt that some kind of agreement had been reached. From the corner of her eye she noted that Harry Kim was also watching the pair, a frown on his face as he, too, wondered what was going on.

Slowly, very slowly, as though approaching a skittish colt, Chakotay lifted a hand to Tom's face and gently stroked his cheek, a smile playing on his lips as Tom edged closer. With just the slightest inclination of his head and the merest hint of a raised eyebrow, a question was asked and Chakotay paused, waiting for the answer.

Janeway dropped her hand away from her comm badge and clutched at her glass as she noted the colour slowly rising in Tom's face. The pilot gave Chakotay a small, wry grin and the tiniest of nods and Janeway gasped, suddenly, painfully, realising what was about to happen.

As a hush fell around them, Chakotay abandoned his glass on the counter and brought his other hand to Tom's face, caressing his cheek for a brief moment before letting his fingers slide into the wispy hair at the base of Tom's neck. Drawing him forwards, Chakotay's lips met Tom's in the softest of kisses. 

With her breath caught in her throat, Janeway sat, stunned, as she watched Tom unclench his hand and wrap his arm around the older man's waist, the kiss deepening as their eyes closed and years of denial finally, completely, fell away from them. Toe to toe, they kissed, oblivious of their audience as the moment stretched on, melting and moulding into each other as their desires rose.

Finally, Chakotay reluctantly drew away, lightly resting his forehead against Tom's before grabbing his hand. Paying attention to no-one else, they smiled at each other. Another unvoiced agreement reached, they entwined their fingers and moved from the bar. 

Stepping between their bewildered crew mates, they walked slowly to the exit and left Sandrine's, in silence.


	2. Tom

It had been a hell of a rough day and Tom Paris was shattered. 

Pirate ships had come out of nowhere, it seemed, and it had taken all his concentration and years of experience to keep them at bay. Several hours had passed before they'd finally retreated – several ships down – but at times it had felt like days, other times just minutes. He'd been so focussed, that his sense of time had become skewed – he'd lived every second as though it was both his first and last. By the end of the battle, he was physically, emotionally and mentally exhausted.

Although, somehow – and he didn't quite know how – he'd still had enough reserves to get into yet another confrontation with the Commander. 

He couldn't remember what had set the older man off this time, but just lately it really didn't seem to take much. And, if he was honest, he'd been reacting to the man in exactly the same way. As much as Chakotay riled him, he riled Chakotay. It had become a vicious circle. One that, no matter how much he'd like to break, he just couldn't seem able to. In fact, the circle seemed to be breaking them.

After heated words, he'd stormed off the bridge and into the turbolift, his nerves frayed, close to tears. Only Harry's presence had stopped him from breaking down completely. The Ensign had dragged him back to his quarters and sent him to bed, staying out on the couch until he woke up a few hours later.

Now, feeling a little calmer and not quite so tired, he sat drinking tea and eating a sandwich as Harry sat patiently beside him. He was sure the questions would come soon, though. He was also sure he wouldn't be able – or willing, perhaps – to supply the answers. When it came to Chakotay, nothing was straightforward. Ever.

Shaking his head, he took another bite of his sandwich.

The man both attracted and repelled him in equal measure. It was fucking confusing. No one else on the ship affected him that way. No one else stirred both his anger and passion to such a degree. No one else could hurt him like Chakotay did.

“I must be a fucking basket case,” he muttered. “Or some weird kind of sado-masochist.”

“Tom?”

“Nothing, Harry. Don't worry about it.”

Finishing his sandwich, he put the plate on the low table in front of the couch and leaned back, taking his tea with him.

“You look a little more relaxed, at least,” Harry commented, giving him a quick smile. “We should go to Sandrine's and have a few drinks, help you unwind a bit more.”

Tom took a deep breath, not sure how to respond. Not sure what he wanted. Go to bed and sleep it all off, or vent his pent-up feelings on the holodeck?

Perhaps he could do both.

“Okay, Harry. I'll go for a while.”

“Good.” Harry jumped up and stood in front of him. “Get changed and I'll meet you there in twenty minutes, okay?”

“Sure.”

He watched Harry leave, then got up to dispose of his cup and plate. After a quick shower, he headed for the closet in the bedroom.

Fuck. Most of his things were dirty.

He rummaged around, pulling clothes out and throwing them on the bed. There had to be _something_ he could wear, surely.

He picked up an old pair of jeans. They didn't look too bad. And the navy T-shirt – crumpled but clean. It would have to do. After all, it wasn't like he was going out looking to get laid.

Quickly dressing, he combed his hair and headed for Sandrine's, finding Harry already there with B'Elanna, Megan and Jenny. They seemed deep in conversation, so he said a quick hello then stood at the bar and placed his order. As he listened with one ear to what his friends were talking about, he took a long drink of the beer he'd bought and surreptitiously glanced around, relieved when he could see no sign of Chakotay.

The Captain was present, though, and she seemed to be looking around as well. Perhaps she was waiting for someone.

Oh, fuck. If she _was_ waiting for someone it would probably be the Commander. 

He'd just have to try and keep a low profile. Do what he could to not call attention to himself. Draining the rest of his beer, he let Sandrine take the empty glass away then tucked himself in behind his group of friends. Harry offered to buy him another drink, but he declined and turned away to lean his elbows on the bar. 

He covertly scanned the room, noting a group of engineering guys standing near the end of the counter, mostly blocking his view of the entrance. Sandrine caught his attention a couple of times as she went back and forth, serving various crew members, and he considered changing his mind about having another drink. He'd just about talked himself into it when he froze.

Chakotay was there, at the end of the bar, staring right at him.

Oh, hell!

He straightened up and gripped the edge of the counter with one hand and felt his other clenching at his side. He couldn't seem to look away, Chakotay's dark eyes pinning him in place, the older man leisurely sipping his whisky as he easily held his gaze captive. Chakotay seemed to be scrutinising him with a speculative intensity that made him nervous. There was a slow-burning heat in those searing eyes that he'd never seen before – had never expected to see, ever. 

What the hell was going on?

Whatever it was, he couldn't help his body's response to it. He felt his heart start to race, his breath quicken. He swallowed compulsively as a thought slowly, insistently, began to coalesce in his mind: I want him. I've always wanted him.

Does he want me?

He swallowed again as Chakotay pushed away from the bar and, with the lazy, confident air of a predator, strolled intently toward him, his piercing gaze never wavering. Time slowed and stood still as a glass came to rest on the counter, close to his hand, and hot, dark eyes bore into his. He could feel the heat from the other man's body now, too, and his breath caught in his throat as he gazed with stunned wonder straight into the man's soul.

He was being offered something here – something precious, something amazing. Something he'd never fully or consciously admitted to wanting before.

Should he accept?

He blinked as he let go of the bar and cautiously raised his hand. He spread his fingers and tentatively reached forward to rest them on Chakotay's chest, feeling the rapid thud, thud of the man's heart through the black cotton of his T-shirt - a rhythm that easily matched his own heart's wild, thundering beat. At his acquiescence, Chakotay's eyes softened perceptively and the corners of his mouth turned up as he took a step forward.

Tom edged closer, too, feeling the warmth of a blush spreading across his cheeks as Chakotay's fingers slowly reached up to caress him, a statement and a silent question subtly displayed on the man's handsome, smiling face: You've worked it out. Can I kiss you?

Unacknowledged attraction and unconscious denial, on both their parts. That's what it had all been about. 

He grinned and nodded, arousal slowly coursing through him as he felt another hand touch his face, slipping to the base of his neck as soft lips touched his in a gentle kiss. Only dimly aware of the silence that had fallen, he unclenched his hand and wrapped his arm around Chakotay's waist, his eyes closing as they moulded together and the kiss deepened, the warmth of desire rising up and spreading languidly throughout his body.

Yes, this is how it should be – should always have been.

The kiss stretched on, everyone else forgotten as he lost himself to sensation, revelling in the restrained passion being directed solely at him. He felt his own limited control starting to slip away, but, before it could, Chakotay slowly drew back, leaning forward to lightly rest his forehead on his.

A hand grasped his hand, and he smiled at Chakotay's smile. Wordlessly, their fingers entwined and in silent agreement they walked out of Sandrine's.


	3. Chakotay

The cabin was quiet and still. Chakotay sat, cross-legged, on the floor, his back lightly resting against the base of his couch, his eyes closed. He'd been there for the best part of an hour, but was still deep in thought, struggling with the conclusions he'd reached after a two hour spirit walk earlier and the cryptic message he'd been given.

“The answer is in the pattern,” the she-wolf had told him. But she wouldn't expand on her puzzling clue, no matter how insistently he'd asked or how differently he'd phrased his questions. She just would not give him any more.

Her veiled hint had been as perplexing to him as the person he'd been asking about, and it'd taken a lot of thought to come up with an idea of what it was she meant. Although, he still wasn't certain he was completely right, or what he would do about it if he was. He needed just a little more time to think.

Opening his eyes, he stood up and walked to the replicator. A cup of hot spicy tea might help revitalise his tired brain. It couldn't hurt, anyway.

With cup in hand, he went back to the couch and sat down.

_The answer is in the pattern._

He'd had to think back over many previous months of crew interactions before he'd got the first inkling of what the words might be referring to.

He and Tom Paris had clashed many times, over the preceding six months especially, culminating in another heated exchange on the bridge today. A blow-up that shouldn't have happened, really, because there was just no basis for it. He'd only told Tom he was amazed he could fly so well considering the state he was in, and Tom had definitely not taken it the way it was meant. 

Instead of the compliment it was supposed to be – despite, Chakotay admitted, the slightly ambiguous nature of the words he'd used – Tom had flown off the handle and let loose a tirade of insults and sarcastic comments that had riled him up, too. In the end, he'd told Paris to just leave the bridge and Tom had flounced off to the turbolift with Harry Kim in tow, leaving him sat in the command chair, angry and very unsettled.

It was this situation that had led him to seek solace on the spirit plane and consult with the she-wolf on what she thought the problem might be between him and the pilot. 

And all she'd given him?

_The answer is in the pattern._

But _was_ there a pattern to any of it?

He hadn't seen it at first. But, as he started to remember back over their many showdowns, he began to notice correlations with two other situations.

The first was the Captain's habit of flirting with him. It had always been fairly low-key and he'd never taken it seriously – it was just a bit of fun and it kept her in a good mood, so he let her continue, deflecting it as gently as he could and keeping it to a manageable level.

The second thing that stood out to him was the timing of Tom's romantic liaisons. 

In his mind, the three things – the flirting, the fighting and Tom's girlfriends - had started to hint at a link.

Every time Tom was between partners and the Captain flirted with _him,_ her First Officer, there would be some kind of altercation between him and Tom. In the days that followed, Tom would start seeing someone new. It would never last, though – often no more than a day or two – and then he'd be single again. Peace would then reign on the bridge until Janeway recommenced her flirting. And then the rows would return.

Tom would attack and he'd retaliate. 

It would put him in a bad mood and then – especially, he'd noticed, when the pilot had just broken up with someone – _he'd_ be the one going on the offensive, instead.

And on and on it went, like a vicious circle.

He had to admit, though, he often reacted far harsher to Tom than he ever would to anyone else. But, in his own defence, no one pushed his buttons like Tom Paris did. No one. No one ever had and, he suspected, ever would.

So, what was the cause of it all? 

At first, he'd considered that Tom might be interested in the Captain and was jealous when she flirted with someone else. It was only a fleeting thought, though, and he'd quickly dismissed it. There was nothing stopping Tom from approaching Kathryn if he really wanted to, but he'd never once shown any inclination of doing so. 

So that couldn't be it.

He ran a hand over his face as he again contemplated what he was beginning to be sure was the correct answer: Tom had deep-seated feelings for him that he couldn't express to his face, and was taking it out on him in order to vent his pent-up frustration.

And what was more, he was inexorably coming to see that _he_ had well-buried feelings too, for Tom, and was reacting the exact same way.

What a horrible, horrible mess it all was!

It was time to put a stop to it. 

And it was up to _him_ to do it.

Tonight.

The decision reached, he quickly finished his tea and disposed of the empty cup. He'd already showered before his spirit walk, so he headed for the bedroom, calling out to the computer for the location of Lieutenant Tom Paris.

“Lieutenant Paris is in holodeck one.”

“Sandrine's, then,” he mused, opening the closet door and then pulling off the sweatpants he'd been wearing. “Better dress accordingly.”

Although generally a confident man, he was a little apprehensive, having no idea, really, how things would go with Tom. But he was usually good at keeping his inner turmoil hidden, and the right clothes would add to the air of confidence he was trying to portray.

Selecting a pair of black jeans, he wondered what to wear with them.

His tight, black T-shirt made him feel good, on the rare occasions he wore it, so he decided on that. And if Tom _was_ interested in him the way he suspected, well, he was pretty sure it would garner a positive reaction.

Chuckling to himself, he got dressed, then combed his hair. It would be good to try and get things sorted out once and for all, and, if things went well, he might actually enjoy himself tonight.

With a hint of a smile on his lips he left his quarters and strode purposefully toward the holodeck, entering the Sandrine's program and heading straight to the bar. Walking through the door, he'd glimpsed Kathryn sitting alone at a table, but didn't want to be distracted from his goal, so gave no indication that he'd seen her. He just hoped she wouldn't approach him and spoil his plans.

Ordering a whisky, he kept his eyes averted from the Captain and checked out the people milling nearby. Three of the engineering crew were standing alongside him, so he cautiously peered between them and looked for Tom at the pool table. Surprised the man wasn't there, he turned back to the counter and the drink Sandrine had placed there. Thanking her, he took a sip then let his gaze drift further down the bar.

It took only seconds for him to locate his quarry and take in his appearance. Tom looked dishevelled and a bit lost, standing as he was on the fringe of his group of friends, his elbows on the bar and his face turned away from them. There was an air of vulnerability about Tom tonight, which, he admitted to himself, he found quite appealing. More than appealing, actually. In fact, arousing was probably a better word. He loved having a partner who needed him – someone he could care for and fuss over – and Tom definitely looked like he needed caring for right now. He could just imagine taking Tom to bed and showering him with love until he was no more than a quivering heap of boneless, soft, pale skin – a quiescent pilot, loved into submission. Quite a delicious thought.

As he sipped again at his whisky, blue eyes met his and he stared unwaveringly into their depths, testing Tom's nerve, wondering what the man's reaction would be to the obvious message of deep desire he was deliberately sending his way. 

He could tell Tom was puzzled, and his nervousness was apparent, but he was thrilled he hadn't looked away. The message had definitely been received, Tom was just mulling over his response now. 

Perhaps it was time to move closer .

Carrying his whisky, his eyes still locked on Tom's, he stepped past the engineers and strolled purposefully forward, coming to a halt just inside the realm of Tom's personal space, putting the glass down on the counter, next to the other man's hand.

He allowed Tom to see _him,_ giving an unguarded glimpse into the depth of his being, letting his intentions show clearly in his ardent gaze and willing Tom to accept what he was offering. Words weren't necessary, everything being fervently expressed by non-verbal means, and he wondered whether Tom would respond in the same manner.

His heart beat faster as he noted the look on Tom's face – wonderment, hesitance – seeing Tom's internal debate reflected in the bright blue eyes that were searching his own with much studious deliberation, until finally....

Tom's hand reached out, cautiously, and came to rest on his chest. He could feel the slight tremor in the fingers splayed there and his heart began to beat faster still, an indication of his own nervousness that he'd tried so hard to conceal. But he knew he'd been given his answer, a positive one, and he softened his gaze, feeling a small smile begin to show on his lips, growing as Tom moved closer, colour rising in the face before him.

He lifted a hand to Tom's face and softly caressed one light pink cheek with gentle fingers, his own face portraying the questions he now wanted to ask: Can I kiss you, Tom? Please? Accept me?

A knowing grin and the slightest nod of a head - another positive reply.

He fleetingly brushed Tom's face with his other hand before sliding his fingers backwards, into the soft hair at the base of Tom's neck, drawing him in for the gentlest of kisses. Tom's arm wrapped around his waist as his eyes closed, his own heart seeming loud in the sudden silence that surrounded them. He deepened the kiss, allowing Tom to feel a small measure of the desire and arousal that flowed through him, trying desperately to keep it in check as Tom returned the kiss with fervour. 

The kiss stretched on, previous hostilities between them erased and forgotten as he realised that this is how it should have been all along - the warmth of Tom in his arms, the heat of kisses rather than heated words, funnelling their energy _into_ each other, not _at_ each other. And by the response he was getting, he could tell that Tom felt the same way.

He kissed Tom for as long as he could before passion threatened to get the best of them, then slowly, reluctantly, he pulled away, briefly resting his forehead against Tom's before taking hold of his hand. They needed to take this elsewhere now, and he could see Tom's agreement in his matching smile.

With fingers entwined and in silence, they walked, together, out of Sandrine's.


End file.
